My European Masters Championships 2012

On 24 August I was at Munich airport, with an eight hour wait for my connection to Manchester. I hate wasting time and would have preferred a better connection, however, when I booked my flight the European Masters (or Veterans as they still call themselves) was an important event for me. Annoyingly there isn’t a great deal to do at Munich, there is however an unlimited amount of coffee. So knowing that I had this excruciating wait I’d loaded my kindle up with new books and taken along a writing pad. I decided I’d start writing my next blog whilst waiting for the plane. 8 hours is a long time and it was a big pad. Having returned home I decided I didn’t want to send everyone to sleep so here’s the abbreviated version.

If you’re up to date on reading my blogs you’ll know that I was going well and looking forward to these championships, even considering myself as an outside chance for a medal. But then I got injured. After resting and suffering two reoccurrences of the injury it was clear I wasn’t going to be able to compete, effectively, at the championships. In the days leading up to the start of them I was in pain, just walking, so I really thought it would be a minimum of two weeks before I could recommence training, and even if I could run sooner than that, I’d missed three weeks training already so had surely lost all of my form.

I tried to cancel my holiday and recoup the costs but the insurance company said I was fit to travel and their policy does not cover lack of enjoyment. So in the end I decided to go ahead with the trip and do some cycling and walking to try to keep fit, I had also worked out a number of strengthening exercises, in conjunction with my physio, I hoped would stop a reoccurrence of the problem, once my hamstring was fixed.

So at 3am on 16 August I set off for Manchester airport. It was going to be a long day, but this way it was only an hour wait between connections. On the flights over I managed to finish Gabby’s book, (for those new readers, thanks to the link provided by the Salford Harriers & AC website, this is a book written by a friend and former runner. It is based upon interviews of some of Britain’s best Marathon runners of the 1980s and some earlier than that. Afraid it doesn’t feature Stan Curran or even Arthur Walsham but it does give a fascinating insight into how these athletes prepared for their marathons. If you want to find out more about the book visit www.gabriellecollison.com) now it was back to Shackleton’s adventures. On arrival at Dresden airport I stood up and saw that Francisco Javier Fontaneda had been sitting behind me since Munich. Francisco won the 10000m and 5000m at the last European Championships, in Hungary, and we have remained friends since. We embraced, chatted and I wished him luck. He was heading to Gorlitz, I was heading to a small village somewhere in deepest Saxony.

The next day I went to Zittau to register, I figured I might as well, even if I wasn’t going to run. I was also meeting an old friend of mine, John Heywood, who had also entered but would not be running. The plan was to head off for some walks and cycle rides together, over the coming week. It took me ages before I found anyone I knew and then they were few and far between. It appeared a number of British athletes had stayed away, or maybe my window of registration was different to theirs. But John was there and we made arrangements to meet up the next day for a cycle ride.

The next day was the 10000m, I had thought about going to watch but I thought it was better to do some exercise, I hadn’t done any cardio for a week, and very little before that, so I was hoping a bike ride might help. I went to John’s place, we organised a couple of bikes and set off towards the Czech border. Not far from the border my foot started to slip around the peddle, I stopped to check it out and found that it had been put on incorrectly and was now working at a funny angle. For a moment I considered carrying on but it was pulling on my knee and the last thing I needed was an additional injury. So we headed back to change the bikes, John’s wasn’t too great either. It was a decision well made as 400m from home the peddle fell off. We picked up two new bikes and decided to head in the other direction, this time with more success. At the end of the day we’d had a good cycle and I’d had no problems with my hamstring, which was a good sign. At the track, Francisco defended his 10000m title. Looking at the result, had I kept up my progress from the British Masters T&F Champs, and had one of my better races, it is possible I could have sneaked another bronze medal, though it’s probably more likely I would have finished between 4^th and 8^th. A top 6 was my real goal so I think it would have been achievable.

On Sunday John and I went for a walk in the forest, I was thinking this was going to be long and reasonably hard as we intended to climb up a hill that hosted a ski jump. John’s thinking was along slightly different lines as he knew there was a beer festival going on in the forest. There we met up with John’s landlord, landlord’s family and landlord’s dog and became embroiled in the festivities. We did make it up to the top of the ski jump, but I think we drank longer than we walked. Mind you while we walked I began to forget about my injury and ran a few paces with the dog, thankfully the leg seemed to be ok.

After my experiences on the bike and the brief run with the dog, and also feeling that my leg felt strong from the exercises I was doing, the following day I decided to chance a run. I kept it simple and slow, running for a total of 10 minutes before breakfast. No repercussions, so I decided I would run again in the evening and stretch it to 15 minutes. During the day I visited Gorlitz, which is quite an attractive city and just over the river from where the distance races were being held. Back home via the track, where I met John and arranged to go cycling the following morning. The evening run was 16 minutes and pain free, I was still running nervously, i.e. waiting for something to twinge but I felt comfortable enough to continue with it the next day.

On the Tuesday I ran for 23 minutes, before breakfast, then I met  John and we took the bikes into the Czech Republic, it was quite hilly in places and we cycled for a good three hours, again I was not suffering any problems in the hamstring. Could I be on my way back. That evening I stretched my run to 31 minutes and I felt good.

Wednesday, the day before the 5000m, my pre-breakfast run was 34 minutes and I was still not getting any problems. I started thinking about possibly running in the 5000m, I would have to enter today if that was the case. Over breakfast I started to weigh up my options. I hadn’t trained properly for about three weeks and I was nervous about running fast so there was no way I was going to be competitive, in fact I was highly likely to run 20+ minutes, come last and get lapped numerous times by the leaders. The time would stand forever on my running CV, for all to see. But I wasn’t embarrassed, I take the rough with the smooth, I’ve had bad runs before, I’ve had slow runs before, I’ve been beaten by people who, perhaps, shouldn’t have beaten me and I’ve been last in races. Looking at it another way I’d come all this way and paid a lot of money, I should at least take part, if I could, I’ve often raced soon after a comeback, it’s a way of feeling like you’re back in the game and who cares if I run 20 minutes today, if I can manage a sub 16 minutes in 5 months time. Besides I’m not easily embarrassed by defeat, I have a saying, ‘defeat is the first step to your next victory’ (ok it’s not a particularly enthralling saying and is hardly going to be quoted in pub quizzes throughout the country but it means I learn from my defeats and focus my training on improving). I prefer my other saying, ‘embrace the hill, make it your friend’ but it doesn’t have any relevance in the context of this blog. So I went along to the track to register for the race, then I went home and ran another 30 minutes. I hadn’t bothered packing my racing flats and only had the trainers I was using to walk in, but that didn’t matter if I was going for a 20 minute run. I wasn’t even going to take my GB kit, but a last minute decision to just put it into the suitcase proved sensible.

Thursday, race day, I met John at the track and we headed off for the race, held in Poland, at Zgorzelec. It was warm, but no where near as hot as it had been when I ran in Hungary. I wasn’t nervous about the heat anyway, I’ve proven I can run well in hot conditions, though I was a little tentative about my leg. I was worried I might get competitive, once the gun went, and end up pulling it again. John was already trying to wind me up by telling me the times he was running, he’s 65, and how funny it would be if I was slower than him. I wasn’t bothered, in his time John has been a good runner and when I’m 65 I’d be happy to run his times. Still I’m a long way off that. I didn’t bother to warm up, why would I my whole race was going to be a warm up and I was possibly the least nervous of all the contenders, as we awaited the start time. We were paraded in front of the crowds and I felt a little embarrassed wearing my GB kit, knowing how slow I was going to run. But the usual warm support from the Brits was a nice acknowledgement. Then we headed to the start and the 16 of us set off. I was cautiously slow, a 42 second 1^st 200m, but I wasn’t last, he was German. I let myself settle down and after a little while I realised I was in touch with some of the other runners. First it was fellow Britain, Alan Roberts, that moved behind me, then another German, then I took 3 in one go. The next chap, a Pole, was about 50 metres ahead of me and going at roughly the same pace as me. I figured he was too slippery to catch so settled into a rhythm, concentrating on how my legs felt, but a few laps later I was in his slipstream. Then I passed him, he sat on me for a couple of laps but I then moved away. At some point I got lapped by the first 5 runners, Francisco had a good lead and as I finished I assumed he’d won again, but he’d been caught in the last lap and had to settle for silver. I finished in 9^th position, in a surprisingly quick (under the circumstances) 17:37.72. If I hadn’t been injured I’d definitely have made the top 7, running the same time as at Derby would have given me 6^th and my M45 best would have netted 5^th. So I didn’t miss any medals, but it would have been nice to have been competitive, after all the hard work I’d put in before. Still I’d come through my return race and I knew where I was, and it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.

Now to get back my fitness and look for my next victory, but I need to be patient, better to run slow than not at all.

      

Written by Roger Alsop

www.rogeralsop.co.uk